Huh...

Today, I picked up Donald Miller's Blue Like Jazz. It is by no means a scholarly work, but y'know something? I'm not a scholar. I can live with that. I picked it up from the bookstore on campus, and after letting it sit there for several minutes within eyesight while doing a few things on the computer, I can't stand it. I have to pick it up and read it. Others have read it and said some very good things about it. But I'm at work, so I can't spend on my time on it, right?

Thirty minutes later, I realize I should not have picked this book up. I have too much work to do to keep reading like I really, really wanted to.

And what a piece. A story of stories that track one man's journey in finding God.

Almost immediately, it was impressed upon me how very little I did, how I silently seethed in jealousy at those who did get up and do something with their lives, and how utterly selfish of me all that was. I loathed being completely in the background, yet all I did was loathe. In so doing, I became what I despised.

It's interesting how people turn out to be the very things they hate.

I want a lot of things out of life. God willing, it's not too late to begin.